


Sateda Needs No Pants

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jennifer had seen many things since she'd become a doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sateda Needs No Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [lengthy comment thread](http://toomuchplor.dreamwidth.org/98386.html?thread=1839442#cmt1839442) with the delightful Toomuchplor. Thanks to Sheafrotherdon for audiencing, and Trinityofone for grammar help.

Jennifer had seen many things since she'd become a doctor. She'd interned at the Mayo Clinic; treated staff blasts at the SGC; on more than one occasion, she'd had to deal with John Sheppard's stubborn refusal to accept that he'd had a giant hole punched in his guts. In a way, she supposed vaguely, it was good to know that after all that, there were still things that could flummox her. "Ronon," she said carefully, because what if this was some sort of Satedan thing? Some sort of... she had no idea. Oh god. "Why do you have no pants on?"

Ronon's legs hung lean and bare over the edge of the gurney. He swung them idly as she spoke, as nonchalant as if he weren't pantsless and in need of stitches in his shoulder. "Pants aren't that important. Don't have to wear them when you don't need them," he said, hitching his good shoulder.

"Well," Jennifer said. She was making a valiant attempt to keep her eyes fixed on Ronon's face, and not on his thighs. God. There'd been nothing in her training about this. "That's... okay. But we're in the infirmary. That's kind of public."

Ronon looked at her as if she'd said something more than a little strange. "Yeah?"

"We wear pants in public?" She could hear her voice climbing upwards at the end, as if she was in some kind of doubt about this; as if she were not uncomfortably aware that this could all end up in accusations of medical malpractice on her part. Sometimes she really didn't like how thoroughly Ronon could discombobulate her with a single look.

Another one-shouldered shrug. "Wear 'em around Sheppard? He gets weird about nudity. And McKay because... McKay. Doc Beckett said I had to wear them in the infirmary because he didn't want me to preoccupy the nurses. But you're not Beckett, and you're not a nurse."

It was hard for Jennifer to argue with logic like that. She blinked, trying to focus, because it wasn't like Ronon was getting any more clothed here, and _look_ at the man. (Or not. Or _not_ , right now, Jennifer!) "This is an... ongoing thing?"

"The naked?"

Jennifer stared at him, because really, what else could she be talking about right now? Sometimes she had the dire suspicion Ronon did this on purpose—that his interactions with people from Earth were part of some long-running performance-art-cum-deadpan-humour thing. "Yes, the naked!"

"No one minded so much about nudity on Sateda. Once it wasn't winter. Or you were, like, fighting or frying something in the kitchen or something." He looked into the middle distance, as if recalling some long ago memory. "Hot oil on your balls isn't fun."

Jennifer tried playing the one card left to her. "Well, this isn't Sateda. People don't usually walk around naked here. It's not... that is, people from Earth, we're not so... comfortable with that." It was Atlantis, in the middle of the night, and the only people in the infirmary were her and Ronon—Jennifer here because she couldn't sleep and thought she should catch up on her filing; Ronon because he'd decided that two in the morning was a good time to play with knives—and if anyone walked in and saw the two of them like this right now? Jennifer could feel her cheeks heat in pre-emptive embarrassment.

"Huh. Weir didn't mind."

She blinked at him. "I—what?" She must have misheard.

"When I didn't have my pants on." Ronon's brow furrowed, as if trying to recall the exact words Elizabeth had said to him. "Said it would be ethnocentric to refuse to take part in Satedan bonding techniques, and she was open to all possibilities of cross-cultural exchange."

"Oh god," Jennifer said weakly.

"That was before she took her pants off," Ronon said helpfully.

"You and _Elizabeth_?"

"Me and her what?" Ronon leaned back on the gurney, which did all sorts of interesting things to his stomach muscles, but Jennifer refused to let that break her concentration.

"You two, you had—you did—" She made a series of _very obvious hand gestures_ , which earned her nothing but a blank look from Ronon. " _Intercourse_ ," she hissed eventually, feeling like an idiot; though in her defence, this was not a conversation she'd ever expected to have.

"Why do you people always think nakedness means sex?"

"Well, because generally it _does_." Or at least that was the case in Jennifer's admittedly not very extensive experience—there was that one notable exception, with the holiday at the cabin and Diana and the skinny dipping, but she didn't want to dwell on that. She waved at the general area below Ronon's waist. "I mean, that's... that's _Little Ronon_ on display there. Oh God, please forget I just referred to your penis like that."

Both of Ronon's eyebrows arched upwards in the way that Jennifer had come to realise meant he was wildly amused. "Little Ronon?"

"Not that I mean to imply... I mean, you're very... vital. Oh God." She closed her eyes tight. "I'm just going to shut up now. Forever."

There was a long pause while Jennifer covered her eyes with her hands and wished that the floor would open up and swallow her, or that the Wraith would think it a convenient moment to launch a non-lethal but suitably distracting attack against the city. Anything that would distract Ronon from the fact that she'd just made reference to the _size of his penis_ , oh God, she needed a drink.

"You didn't tell me to put on my pants," Ronon said after a long moment when the only sounds in the infirmary were the quiet beeps of the monitors and Jennifer's soul shrivelling up from mortification.

"What?" Confused, Jennifer pulled her hands away from her eyes and looked up at him.

"When you saw I had no pants on," Ronon said. "You didn't tell me to put them back on. No pants means sex for Earth people" He squinted at her. "You want to have sex with me."

"Do not!" Jennifer blurted out in the kind of too shocked, too quick denial that hadn't served her too well in college, and apparently even less well here—not if the look on Ronon's face was anything to go by. He looked like he'd just solved a long-running puzzle; the upwards curve of his mouth was almost unbearably cat-got-the-cream-ish.

"Totally do," Ronon said.

"This is the most embarrassed I've been in forever," Jennifer told him, shock forcing her into complete honesty.

He frowned at her. "What about the thing on K'treya, with the feathers?"

"Okay, second most embarrassed," she admitted. She thought there had been a mutual agreement by all parties concerned never to mention that mission again. "And... yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'd like to, you know.... sex. And associated stuff."

When Ronon grinned, really grinned, it transformed his face—he was always good-looking, but out-and-out happiness made it so that Jennifer found it hard to look away from him. Her mouth felt dry. "Cool."

"So," Jennifer said. She wasn't quite sure the appropriate course of action to take after confessing a long-running sexual and romantic attraction to a colleague who apparently reciprocated such feelings, when one was semi-nude and the other wearing an old pair of college sweats, standing in the middle of an infirmary so late at night that the sun would soon be peeking up over the horizon. This probably wasn't in any etiquette handbook.

"So," Ronon said, and she would have said he sounded detached and amused if she hadn't seen the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. That was interesting.

Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Jennifer set her suture kit down on the edge of the gurney and tugged her sweats down over her hips, kicking them off to land a couple of feet away. At least she'd had a chance to do laundry a few days ago, so her underwear was reasonably pretty, rather than dingy, greying granny panties. Ronon's eyebrows went up. "Jennifer?"

"You know what they say," Jennifer said, summoning up her courage and taking a step forward so that she was standing between Ronon's legs. They closed around her instinctively, strong thighs bracketing her hips. She felt her pulse kick up a notch; Ronon's arms were warm and surprisingly soft beneath her palms. "When in Atlantis, do as the Atlanteans do."

"They say that?" Ronon's mouth was very close to hers.

"Eh," Jennifer said, "first time for everything," and kissed him.


End file.
